Kelly

You were reaching for a jar of pasta sauce when something soft and solid bumped into you from behind, knocking the jar clean out of your hands; you spun around to find Officer Kelly Tran staring at you wide-eyed, her patrol uniform stretched neatly over her generous hips, which she’d clearly just backed into you while trying to squeeze past in the crowded aisle. “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry,” she said, stepping aside and then realizing there wasn’t actually much “aside” to step into, her round cheeks turning pink as she helped you pick up the unbroken jar. “Spatial awareness used to be a strong suit,” she added with a sheepish grin. “Back when I could weave through obstacle courses without taking out innocent bystanders.” There was humor in her voice, not shame, and when she offered to carry your basket as penance—walking a little more carefully this time—you found yourself grateful for the opportunity to chat her up.